8 Blood on a Parasol
by Interest Me
Summary: BnB have returned from their undercover operation at a Civil War reenactment. Luther is in custody. Delicate Marisol has found a loving grandmother for her unborn child. But Bones makes a discovery that shatters the case.
1. Chapter 1

Part Two. Sequel to The Civil in the War.

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter One

Susan H

Brennan prepared her report on the last case. The DNA results on the parasol confirmed the blood definitely belonged to Thomas Kincaid, and traces of DNA found on the handle belonged to Luther and Marisol Harper. But the blood found on the broken tip of the handle belonged to, Marisol.

Brennan read Kincaid's toxicology report. She picked up her phone.

"Dr. Saroyan."

"Cam, the toxicology report on Thomas Kincaid shows his blood alcohol level at .208. That's pretty high."

Brennan heard Cam rifling through papers.

"Yes, my notes show I ran the test twice, because the level was tagged. Is there a problem?"

"I'm just clarifying some details for my final report. I also show the blood on the broken handle belonged to Marisol Harper."

"That's correct. You did say that Luther beat her bloody with the parasol."

"Yes, that's true. Cam, can you test the cotton for possible traces of Marisol's blood?"

"All of the blood was tested. It belonged to Kincaid."

"If Marisol was beaten bloody with the parasol, shouldn't her blood be somewhere other than the broken handle?"

"Meet me on the forensic's platform," Cam hung up.

Brennan dialed Booth.

"Booth."

"Booth, I found some discrepancies in the DNA on the parasol. Have you run a background on Marisol?"

"She checked out Bones. Marisol Gutierrez Ortiz, born in Puerto Rico to Alfredo and Rosario Ortiz."

"That's interesting."

"You know Bones, my first impulse is to give you a smart aleck retort, but if you find something interesting, you probably have a point."

"Gutierrez sounds more Mexican than just Hispanic in general."

"And…?"

"I don't know yet. I believe her mother was Mexican or of Mexican origin. The child usually carries the surnames of both parents. Often, the father's name is first, and the mother's second. In this case, Alfredo is surnamed Ortiz, so I assume they used the more modern custom of placing the paternal name last."

"Bones, I'm working on patience this week."

"Well stop. The Booth I know and love is impatient."

"Oh, so you love me."

"It was a figure of speech."

"Please get to the point."

"I don't think Luther killed Thomas Kincaid. I think Marisol did."

"What does that have to do with Mexico and last names, and whatever else it was that you said?"

"Well I don't know the significance yet. I'm just gathering facts."

"Oh, excuse me. I'm still learning to speak Squintese."

"You're back."

"Yes, Bones, I am. Thank you for squelching my attempt to improve myself."

"Meet Cam and me on the forensic's platform."

"Yes sir, Sergeant!"


	2. Chapter 2

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Two

Susan H.

Brennan hung up, retrieved the parasol and took it to the platform. She and Cam snapped on their gloves, and Brennan pulled the parasol out of the evidence bag. The crown of Cam's head nearly touched Brennan's as the two women studied the murder weapon.

"I examined new parasols at the festival, and this center pole is a wooden dowel. The handles were not curved, or stylized in any way. So, if Marisol's blood was found here, at the bottom of the dowel, then either she was hit with this end, or it broke in her hand."

"You told me that Luther chased Marisol out of the trailer with it, and she was bleeding."

"Yes. I kicked Luther as he lunged down the steps and pulled him to the ground. The parasol flew from his hand, and I cuffed him," she spoke slowly, "Booth's back-up gave me the evidence bag and some gloves."

Brennan examined the bag. She turned on a magnifier and examined it closer.

"If the Blood on the parasol was fresh, I would expect some residue in the bag."

Cam looked over Brennan's shoulder.

"That's a valid observation Brennan."

"What's a valid observation?" Booth asked as he swiped his card and bound up the steps.

"Booth, the blood here, on the broken end of the parasol is Marisol's," Brennan said as she examined the point of interest.

"Yeah, well Luther beat her with it."

"Maybe."

"What do you mean Bones?"

"We didn't see him hit her. I don't think the blood was fresh when we retrieved the parasol. See, here, in the evidence bag, there is no sign of wet blood being smeared. I would expect that if the parasol had caused Marisol's wounds."

Booth extended his finger near his face, "I will get a search warrant for the trailer. We need to find out what made Marisol bleed."

"Booth, we need to search for the broken end of this parasol."

"The trailer is a good place to start. You were there when they processed the crime scene, so it's unlikely it was missed."

"Cam," Brennan said, "When is Kincaid's body scheduled for release?"

"Today. I reported the body processed and ready."

"Booth,"

"I'm on it Bones. I'll call Caroline and get you more time with the body," Booth said as he opened his phone. He stepped away, and Brennan heard him making the necessary phone calls.

"Brennan, you look disturbed," Cam said.

"Marisol was planning to call Thomas Kincaid's mother for help with the baby. Booth and I gave her the contact information."

"And I have every confidence you and Booth will correct that situation," Cam said with her arms folded.

"Bones, I just talked to Abigail Kincaid. She and Marisol have a lunch date in four hours. It's an hour drive from here. Do you think you can put together enough evidence, in less than three hours, to hold Marisol?"

"I believe I have already done so, but I'll continue to work on it."

"Great. I told Mrs. Kincaid not to meet with Marisol alone. I ordered two agents to watch her house until we get there. My gut let us down Bones."

"But my science filled in the cracks. That's why we're partners Booth. This isn't your fault."

Cam tilted her head and blinked her eyes at this exchange. She turned and walked back to her office. "Bring me that injunction Booth so we can keep the body," she said over her shoulder.

Booth rushed out.


	3. Chapter 3

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Three

Susan H.

Brennan shifted in her office chair and it hissed as it accommodated her. She combed her notes. Luther never proclaimed his innocence. If Luther wasn't guilty, Brennan wondered, why didn't he shift the blame to Marisol?

"That's more Booth's area," she murmured.

"What's Booth's area?" Booth asked as he walked through her door.

"Why didn't Luther try to implicate Marisol in the murder? If he isn't guilty, and he found the murder weapon, he could have blamed her."

"Oh, Federal Government. He doesn't trust us."

"All the more reason for him to turn on Marisol."

"Sounds logical Bones. Luther doesn't operate with that kind of logic. See, to him, it's logical to withhold anything that could help the Feds. He doesn't recognize our authority."

"I was right. This is your area of expertise."

"Nah, I had to listen to him run his mouth all day Saturday. I suffered in silence to protect our cover. It felt really good to knock him down," Booth smiled.

"I thought you did that for Marisol."

"Well sure I did Bones. That doesn't mean I couldn't get a little something out of it."

Angela entered.

"Brennan, I've been looking at parasols all morning. I found the murder weapon."

She leaned over Brennan and tapped her keyboard.

"You see the handle was finished with an elongated knob. The total length is 26 inches. Looks like the vendor at the festival was selling a cheap version."

"Marisol told me it was good quality. It makes sense though."

"Why Bones?" Booth asked.

"Well, if the handle was just a straight wooden dowel," she held up a pencil to demonstrate,

"It would have required a great deal of force to break off the bottom few inches. It would be much more likely to break closer to the middle," she snapped the pencil.

"The elongated knob offered more leverage, and strengthened the end. Ange do you have enough information to run scenarios through the Angelator?"

"I think so. If not, I could have a parasol sent by overnight express. It's so pretty and delicate. Kind of hard to believe it could kill a man."

"Yes, just like the killer. Thanks Ange."

Booth stood up and adjusted his waist band, "You ready Bones?"

"Yes," she grabbed her bag and they bumped shoulders exiting her office.


	4. Chapter 4

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Four

Susan H.

Brennan buckled her seat belt as Booth turned the ignition key. He shifted the SUV into reverse and caught Brennan looking at him. He smiled as he backed out and shifted into drive.

"What are you looking at Bones?"

"I wasn't looking at anything."

"Oh, I get it."

"Get what?"

"You think I'm hot." Booth smiled.

"I think you're absurd."

"That's why you won't tell me what you're looking at. You think I'm sexy," Booth said sing-song.

"Who does that? Who compliments himself by pretending to read another person's mind?"

"The more you deny it, the more it's true."

"How ridiculous is that? Denials can be true."

"Not only do you think I'm hot, you were having a sex flashback."

"Do you even need me here for this conversation? You sound like you need some alone time."

"Ha, Ha," Booth laughed mockingly.

"Shall we discuss the case, or would you like to continue your conversation with yourself."

"Sure, feel free to join the conversation."

"According to the toxicology report, Thomas was extremely intoxicated at his time of death."

"That would explain the lack of defensive wounds."

"It could. Marisol claimed that she and Thomas had sex for the first time that night. You should be able to answer this. How likely is it that a man too drunk to defend himself was capable of having sex just a short time before?"

Booth frowned. "Why should I be able to answer that?" he asked watching her out of the side of his eye.

"I'm just saying it's improbable that he could perform."

"Again, why am I qualified to answer?"

Booth caught Brennan smirking.

"Yep, you definitely think I'm hot."

Brennan rolled her eyes.

"All this proves is that you think I'm hot, and you are the one having flashbacks."

"You got that right Bones!"


	5. Chapter 5

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Five

Susan H.

Booth parked the SUV on the street. He and Brennan passed three houses before arriving at the Kincaid's. Booth knocked, and Abigail Kincaid opened the door.

"Hello Agent Booth. Dr. Brennan," she waved them in. "Come into the kitchen. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee."

The three settled at the table with their coffee.

"Have you talked to Marisol today, Mrs. Kincaid?" Booth started.

"No. She called me Sunday evening, after you arrested her husband for murdering my Thomas," Mrs. Kincaid dabbed her eyes.

"She told me about the baby. We arranged to meet today. I expect her in about 15 minutes."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Kincaid, but I sent the murder weapon for DNA testing yesterday. I received the results this morning and they raised some questions. We just need to talk to Marisol," Brennan explained.

"I understand Dr. Brennan. But I'm afraid this situation is taking a toll on my health. My doctor prescribed me some anti-anxiety medication after your call Agent Booth."

"I am truly sorry for that Mrs. Kincaid," Booth said.

"It was an honest mistake Mrs. Kincaid. Booth is an excellent agent, and he is extremely careful. He holds your safety above his own. That's why we acted so quickly. Booth will protect you."

Booth sat expressionless. Mrs. Kincaid smiled and squeezed his hand.

"You remind me of my Thomas, Agent Booth. You are so very hard on yourself."

Booth squeezed her hand back.

"Thank you Mrs. Kincaid," he smiled.

They sipped their coffee, and Mrs. Kincaid set a plate of cookies on the table. Booth grabbed two. They made small talk for 30 minutes.

"I wonder where she could be?" Mrs. Kincaid said.

"Maybe she'll call if she's running late," Booth offered.

Time ate the next 30 minutes, and Booth ate three more cookies.

"Please excuse me," Mrs. Kincaid said, and went upstairs.

Brennan jumped up and examined the phone.

"Bones, what are you doing?"

She didn't answer. She punched buttons on the caller ID, and scribbled in her Jeffersonian pad. The stairs creaked, and she raced back to her chair.

Mrs. Kincaid groaned as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She sighed and said, "Well Agent Booth, maybe she never intended to visit."

"It's possible, but I don't want to take any chances. For now, I'd like to leave your house under protective watch."

"Certainly."

"Please call with any concern, no matter how minor it may seem," Booth handed her a card.

"I will."

She walked them to the door, and watched from her porch until they reached the vehicle. Booth saw her retreat and close the door.

Booth rested his hands on the steering wheel while Brennan buckled her seat belt.

"Bones, I really messed this up."

"No, you didn't Booth. Mrs. Kincaid received a call from Mexico this morning. I think Marisol has left the house."

"Building Bones, She's left the building."

"Well, Abigail Kincaid may be prepared to blow over the lemonade stand too."

"Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Doing what Booth?'

"Nothing. Let's see if we can prevent a major lemonade spill."


	6. Chapter 6

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Six

Susan H.

An hour and 15 minutes later, Brennan and Booth walked into the lab. Angela leaned over the second story railing and yelled down to them.

"Hey you two, meet me at the Angelator!"

Cam stepped out of her office, "Angela, must you yell across the lab?"

"You know I must Cam."

"I was talking to a judge on the phone. He heard you."

"I'm sorry Cam. To the Angelator?"

"Indeed. I'll grab my notes."

Angela waited for Cam, and the two women walked together.

Brennan and Booth waited for them in the dim light.

"What are your dinner plans?" Booth asked her.

"Do you want to know my plans, or do you want to know if I'm available?"

Cam and Angela interrupted them. Angela powered up her invention. Brennan watched Booth's face in the warm glow. He clenched his jaw and tensed his forehead. His arms were crossed, and she noted his rate of blinking had slowed. She realized he wouldn't miss a detail. She also suspected he still believed he had failed.

Angela keyed in the details, and Booth let his arms drop. Brennan squeezed his hand beneath the platform. He squeezed back. They let go when the images appeared in the electronic rain. Brennan rested her finger above her lip and smelled Booth's cologne.

Hodgins entered with a file.

"Now that we are all here," Angela said, "this is the most likely scenario. Cam says that the victim's alcohol level shows he partied till he dropped."

The male hologram lay sprawled.

Cam smiled and shook her head. "I believe I used the term 'rendered unconscious.'"

"That's what I said. Anyway, I entered Marisol's statistics, and here we go."

A small female image approached the victim, and held the parasol over her head like a sacrificial knife. She drove it into his forehead. Wood splintered.

"This supports Hodge finding wood and cotton in the wound," Angela explained.

The female continued stabbing the head with the parasol until the handle broke and ripped into her hand. She grabbed the broken weapon and swung it sideways, beating the victim's body. Her last blow landed on Thomas' throat. She then kicked him in the ribs.

Hodgins stared at the scene with his lips pulled between his teeth.

"That is one angry woman," he said.

"Yeah, well, taking her size into consideration, and the damage she did, she needed to use all her strength and really whale on the guy."

"Angie, can you run the same scenario using Luther's statistics?" Brennan asked.

"Sure," she clicked in the alternate information.

A large male figure recreated the attack, and the parasol shattered after two blows, ending the demonstration.

"We need to convince Luther to talk to us," Booth said.

"Dr. Hodgins, considering the victim's alcohol levels, do you think this man would have been capable of performing sexually, say 20 minutes before the attack?" Brennan asked.

"What makes you think I know?"

Brennan caught Cam and Angela smirking.


	7. Chapter 7

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Seven

Susan H.

Brennan and Booth left the Angelator and headed back to her office. Booth sat in Brennan's spot and crossed his ankles on her desk.

"You're sitting in my chair."

Booth smiled and swiveled back and forth.

"I realize that Bones. I was, after all, trained at Quantico."

"Well, please get up."

"This is the most comfortable desk chair I've ever sat in."

"That's because I bought it, not the 'man'."

"Yes, yes you did. And, in doing so, you have broken employee solidarity across the world."

"Then get out of it."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen."

Booth hit the speaker button on Brennan's phone and punched in a number. Brennan settled on the couch as the speaker rang.

"Hola?"

"Hola, Senor Ortiz?" Booth responded.

"Si"

"Senor Ortiz, I'm Agent Booth with the FBI in Washington D.C."

"Hello Agent Booth."

"Also on the call is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan with the Jeffersonian Institute."

"Hello Mr. Ortiz."

"Dr. Brennan, the author?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I enjoy your books."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Ortiz, this call is regarding your daughter Marisol," Booth interrupted.

"Is she okay?"

"We think so."

"Um, Mr. Ortiz, I can't help noticing that your English is perfect, but Marisol speaks with a much heavier accent," Brennan said.

"Yes, well she lived most her life in Mexico with her mother."

"Her mother Rosario Gutierrez?" Booth asked. He looked at Bones, who raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Yes. Rosario took Marisol back to her family in Mexico when she was two-years-old. Rosario married me against her family's wishes. They were a proud family, with a long genealogy, and I was beneath them. Rosario hated island life, and eventually she hated me, so she went back home and married a man her parents approved."

"Marisol told me she lived her entire life in Puerto Rico," Brennan said.

"No. I didn't see her for 18 years. Her mother and stepfather died in a fire. She sent a letter, and told me of the fire. She asked to come live with me."

"So, you were in touch with her while she grew up?" Booth asked.

"No. The letter shocked me. Marisol said she believed the fire was set intentionally, and she feared for her life. Of course, I was anxious to see my daughter. What has happened?"

"Her husband, Luther, was arrested for murder, and we need to ask Marisol some questions. Do you know how we can reach her?"

"No. Unfortunately Agent Booth, the reunion fell short of my expectations. Marisol didn't warm up to me. She spent her time in tourist areas, swimming and drinking. I felt more like an innkeeper than her father. After some months, she told me she met a woman named Abigail, who offered to give her a place to stay in Virginia."

"Did she tell you why she wanted to leave?" Booth asked.

"No. I just assumed she was like her mother and didn't like island life. They both were more cosmopolitan, I suppose."

"Did she tell you Abigail's last name?"

"Abigail Miller. She had just lost her husband, and came to Puerto Rico to get away and relax."

"Thank you Mr. Ortiz."

"Agent Booth, is she in trouble?"

"I can't say at this time. Will you call me if you hear anything?"

"Yes, I will."

Booth gave Ortiz contact information and ended the call.

"I told you her mother was Mexican."

"Yes you did Bones. Forgive me for not considering a random fact that may or may not have been true, or pertinent to the case."

"You're forgiven. Of course, the fact was true, as all facts are, and it is pertinent."

"How about Mexican for dinner?"

"I would like that."


	8. Chapter 8

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Eight

Susan H.

"Okay, let's get going." Booth said

"It's not dinner time."

"We have an appointment with Sweets."

"What? Cancel. Booth, we just had a major break. I don't want to sit around talking about my feelings, childhood, or even my week."

"Me neither Bones. We're going to talk about the case."

***

Sweets observed his two most uncooperative clients enter his office. They both wore smiles, so he knew they needed help on a case.

"Hello Dr Brennan, Agent Booth."

"Hey Sweets," Booth answered, and they both settled at opposite ends of the couch.

"So, how is the…partnership working?"

"It's functioning well Sweets. As a matter of fact, we just had a break in a case, and we need some advice," Booth said

Sweets leaned his temple against two fingers.

"Gee, I didn't see that coming. I actually was inquiring on your partnership at a more personal level. For instance, your secret marriage."

"Dr. Sweets, this is a question of priorities. We have a murder victim. We arrested the wrong person, and now the actual murderer is on the run," Brennan said.

"Come on Sweets. Isn't this why you work for the FBI? If you wanted to do couples counseling, you could hang a shingle in Hollywood and clean up. You want to solve crimes. Right?"

"Agent Booth, you can't play me. Okay, I recognize manipulation. I am a highly qualified professional, and you can't treat me like an inconvenient pawn."

"Sorry Sweets. I had you pegged you wrong. Come on Bones." Bones stood to follow Booth.

"Wait. Please, sit down. What do you need?"

"See Bones. I told you he was a crime fighter."

"I concede that you are better at reading people than I am."

"See Sweets? I'm always sticking up for you and trying to prove your worth to Dr. Brennan."

Sweets nodded. They were ganging up on him again, and as usual, winning.

"Please, let's just discuss the case."

"Okay. I arrested an innocent man. My gut told me he was guilty."

"Yes, but my science proved he was innocent. Well, innocent of murder at least."

"Right. The problem is that he won't talk to us. He won't even defend himself. He doesn't trust the Federal government."

"I don't understand. If he didn't do it, just let him go."

"Because Sweets, he has information that will help us with the case."

"Well, your answer is obvious. This guy distrusts the government. He probably believes conspiracies lurk in every corner. Certainly he spends a great deal of his time reading propaganda that supports his beliefs. He's the oddball at parties that holds guests hostage, sharing his theories and spreading his paranoia."

"Hodgins," Brennan and Booth said in unison.

"Exactly," Sweets agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Nine

Susan H.

"Booth, I don't know how to interrogate a suspect."

"I don't want you to interrogate him Hodgins."

"Well, then what exactly am I doing?"

"Bonding."

Booth opened the interrogation room door, and he and Hodgins entered. Hodgins sat across from Luther, and Booth sat next to Hodgins.

"I ain't talking to you."

"Even if it means you go free today, Luther?" Booth asked.

"Free. None of us are free. It's a big lie the government spouts. Let freedom ring."

"Luther, I'm prepared to release you from custody. I just need some information to wrap this up for you."

"Tell you what Federal Agent. It's legal for you to lie to me. But it ain't legal for me to lie to you during an investigation. So I will just assume you're lying to me."

"He's got a point Booth."

Booth's phone alerted him to a text. Booth read the text and stood.

"I'll be back. I have to take care of this."

Booth left and entered the observation room where Sweets and Brennan waited.

Hodgins sat looking at Luther. _Bond,_ he thought.

"You don't look like a Fed."

"Me? I'm not. I'm a scientist at the Jeffersonian. They contract our services out to the FBI."

"It's all the same in my mind."

"I'm not a government pawn."

"Then why do you stay?"

"You know, keep your enemies close and all that."

"You tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better."

"You think I'm a sellout? You sit here and say nothing. You're letting them win."

"I win if I don't let them intimidate into doing their bidding."

"Yeah, talk to me when they're telling you what to wear, what to eat, when to turn out the lights, how long to wear your hair, and who you sleep next to." Hodgins wasn't sure this was the bonding Booth had in mind. He decided to change his approach.

"Look, I know you didn't kill this guy. Circumstances support the charges, your wife stated you confessed to her, you had the murder weapon, the opportunity, and apparently motive. But the science doesn't support it. I know the government lies. I know wives lie. But dude, science doesn't lie." Hodgins leaned back, crossed his arms, and fixed unwavering eyes on Luther.

"What kind of a scientist are you?"

"Basically, bugs, slime and particulates."

"No wonder you work for the government."

"I don't work for the government." Hodgins face caught fire. He calmed himself and looked at the mirror. He wondered if he made eye contact with any of the observers.

"Look, I stay because of a woman." It wasn't the complete truth, but Hodgins reasoned there were certainly elements of truth in the statement.

"Well, at least that makes sense."

"You're needed out here man. When the government starts injecting our kids with microscopic identity chips, hidden in vaccines, who will warn people?"

"They've developed the technology," Luther responded. Hodgins believed the bonding had started.

"Hell yeah they did. The satellites are already in place, just waiting to track our every move. Bastards."

"Well, you already know I didn't kill Thomas. In a way, you're part of that tracking process."

"I know. It's a struggle. We have the ability to gather unique information from individuals on a molecular level. It's disturbing, but you know, I try to use it responsibly. I figure as long as enough of us care about doing right, we can curb the government from abusing it."

"Yeah, you believe in fairy tales." Luther snorted.

"It's how I make it through the day man."

"I loved my wife until three days ago. I know your friends think I abused her. Hell, they saw me kick her down the stairs."

"Yeah, they did. Why did you do it?"

"I found the bloody parasol. She grabbed a pen and

gouged herself, making herself bleed. She screamed that I had killed her Thomas, and I knew she was setting me up."

"Whoa."

"She opened the door screaming, and I just…"

"That's harsh man. Lots of guys would have snapped."

"Don't make it right. I never hit a woman before. I'm more afraid my mama will find out than I am of going to jail."

"Why do you think she did it?"

Luther shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face.

"I don't know. She's like two people. Shoot, maybe more like five or six. I married this soft, shy, fragile woman. She made me feel strong and protective. She was terrified on our wedding night. I never even said the word tender before I met her. But that's what I wanted for her that night. I was as tender and loving as I ever thought a man could be."

"That's righteous. That's the way to be."

"Yeah, well a year later, I came back a day early from hauling a load. I saw her car and followed her. I intended to surprise her. She parked at a dance club and got out of the car dressed like a one-night-stand."

Hodgins sincerely felt bad for the guy. He wasn't perfect, but he certainly wasn't evil.

"So I sat in my car for a while, to clear my head. Almost turned around to go home. I didn't want to know. But I went in. There she was. She gave more to some strange man on the public dance floor than she ever gave me in the privacy of our own bedroom. I spent the rest of our marriage trying to make her love me. I don't know what her game is."

"Sorry man. I really am. How did you meet her?"

"Thomas' mother introduced us."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: A little bit of fluff to end the weekend---Susan

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Ten

Susan H.

Booth released Luther. He and Brennan ate supper at a Mexican restaurant. At Brennan's door, Booth held her waist as she turned the lock. Brennan twisted her light switch until the lights glowed slightly brighter than candles.

"You have a new painting," Booth said as he looked at the image of a woman twirling in a swirl of leaves and flowers. It's wildness competed with the conservative décor surrounding it.

"Angie gave it to me. It's a print she made from a commissioned painting. I don't believe such freedom is attainable, but I enjoy looking at it."

Booth pulled her back against him and squeezed her.

"She's beautiful," he whispered against her ear.

Brennan closed her eyes and surrendered to Booth's rhythm as he swayed. She laid her hands on his and projected her mind into the painting. She breathed fresh air, and Booth dropped tiny kisses along her cheek and neck.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"In the painting."

Booth lifted her and slowly spun her. She rested her head back on his shoulder. He tickled her ear with his breath.

"What's happening now?"

"A breeze is blowing, and your kisses are flower petals dancing on my skin."

Booth chuckled and ended the spell.

"You're beautiful and surprising Temperance."

"So is Marisol," Brennan laughed.

Booth sat on the couch tugged her next to him. She curled her feet up beside her, and looped her arms around his neck. She loosened his tie and pressed her face into his neck, enjoying his scent.

She unbuttoned his shirt and worked her face to the back of his neck.

"MMM," Booth moaned, "you give me shivers, when you do that."

Brennan rubbed her face in the back of his hair, inhaling audibly. She slipped his tie over his head, and Booth took the opportunity to slide off his jacket. She pushed her face inside his shirt and against his chest.

"Bones, this is what you did when you lost your memory. I think about it all the time."

"In your fantasies?"

"Yes."

"It isn't fantasy now. You don't have to make me stop." Her eyelashes tickled his chest. She continued unbuttoning his shirt and slid her face along his exposed flesh. She pulled the crisp shirttail from his waistband. She crawled on his lap and faced him as she released the last three buttons.

"Booth?"

"Hmm?" Booth answered from across the universe.

"Do you think our sex life will ever become ordinary?"

"I don't care, and I won't care as long as you love me."

"Have you figured out reason number three that makes you believe I love you?"

"Well, let's review," he said as he caressed the tops of her thighs.

"Reason # 1, you got me a glass of water when we were both too tired to move.

"Reason #2, you reached back in time and comforted me as a young soldier.

"Reason #3, you didn't allow me to blame myself for this mess I made. You even defended me to Thomas' mother."

"And these reasons satisfy you?"

"No. You satisfy me. These reasons are simple logic for your sake."

Brennan pushed Booth's shirt of his shoulders and helped him release his arms. She ran her hands freely over his warm flesh. She watched tiny bumps rise and fall in response to her touch.

"It's just a release of endorphins and serotonin in the brain you know."

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me," Booth smiled.

"Booth, aren't you concerned that the illusion of love is a chemical, biological reaction?"

"Is fire a chemical reaction?"

"Yes."

"It keeps me warm. It cooks my food. It provides light. It sustains life. It sets a romantic mood. No, I'm not concerned. It accomplishes the job. Am I right Bones?"

"You are correct."

"I believe science should enrich our lives, not break it down into unimportant chemical reactions. You enrich my life. Do I enrich yours?"

"I concede the point for the moment."

"For the moment?"

"I'd rather discuss other things for now." She nibbled his shoulder. He undid her buttons, and slid her blouse off her shoulders. He plucked a daisy from a vase on the side table, and grazed it over her skin. He ran it up her neck to her ear. He held the flower in front of her face.

"Photosynthesis, a chemical reaction, rendered this beautiful flower." He rubbed it along her throat, and down her chest. The daisy skimmed the lace that trimmed her bra. Booth tucked the flower behind her ear.

"MMM, photosynthesis, now you're talking sexy to me," Brennan smiled and ran her tongue along the horizontal plane of his shoulder. He cradled her cheeks in his hands and stared in her eyes. He brushed his lips against hers. He brushed them along jaw and around her ear. She marveled that those soft lips grew out of such a hard body.

His breath roared in her ear. He drew her lobe into his mouth and suckled it. His finger tips skimmed her spine. She squeezed his shoulders as his mouth and tongue choreographed a complicated dance to her throat.

He pulled her against his chest and turned both of their bodies until he could lay her on the couch, underneath him. Velvety lips pressed against her mouth; thick fabric pressed against her back. She explored and tasted the inside of his mouth. She pulled his bottom lip softly with her teeth, and his stomach jumped against hers as he sharply exhaled.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and arched against him. He deepened the kiss and chased her tongue. He stood up, never breaking the kiss, scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Eleven

Susan H.

Booth woke behind closed eyes long before the sun rose. He relaxed in that special warmth that two sleeping people generate. Brennan lay on her stomach, and his hand rested on her back. His fingers navigated the shallow hills and valleys of her spine.

She shifted and moaned. Booth slipped his hand under her hair and exposed her neck. His lips started at her hairline and fluttered down her back. He felt Brennan move closer to wakefulness.

He caressed the backs of her thighs and stoked behind her knees. She turned toward him, pressed her face into his chest and slid a knee between his thighs. Her breathing deepened and her body relaxed.

Booth listened until her respiration returned to a sleeping pattern. He kissed her shoulder and pressed his body against her while pulling her tighter. He felt her waking and squeezed her leg between his.

Brennan disengaged, and shoved the blankets into an accordion. She crawled over Booth and off the bed. Booth pulled the blankets back up and listened to her in the bathroom. He heard her brushing her teeth. He decided to return the consideration and headed to his bathroom.

She was still in the bathroom when he returned to bed. He watched her shadow in the sliver of light that escaped under the door. He heard spritzing, and swishing, and rustling. Finally, the bathroom glow turned black.

Brennan crawled back over Booth and under the covers.

"What was going on in there?" he asked.

"I usually do a midweek cleaning in the bathroom on Wednesday mornings."

"You were cleaning the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I thought you'd be anxious to get back to me."

"I was. And I wanted a clean bathroom. Now I have both."

Booth recognized the tone that said she couldn't believe he didn't understand.

"Of course," he gave in.

She climbed on top of him and pressed cool peppermint lips to his, swirling the sweet taste through his mouth. She moved her body suggestively against him and ran her tongue down the center of his chest. He struggled to catch his breath as her tongue seduced his legs.

"Did I tell you I wiped toothpaste spots off your mirror?" he rasped.

"MMM," She distributed soft bites along his thigh. He groaned. Her teeth waltzed up his leg, abdomen, chest, to his neck and then his ear. He pulled her back to his mouth and moved his body in synch with her.

She sat up, and the blush of an embryonic sun splashed her skin with fledgling color.

"Good Morning," he said.

"It's about to get better," she answered.


	12. Chapter 12

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Twelve

Susan H.

Later that morning, Brennan answered her office phone.

"Brennan."

"Hey Sweetie, I just e-mailed you a link to an article in EL UNIVERSAL, a Mexican newspaper. I searched using the criteria you gave me, but you'll have to read it. My high school Spanish is a bit rusty."

Brennan opened the e-mail and clicked the link.

"Thanks Angie, this looks right," she hung up.

Brennan read the article and reached for her phone to call Booth, but it was already ringing when her hand found it.

"Brennan."

"Bones, Abigail Kincaid is the same Abigail that met Marisol in Puerto Rico. At that time, Abigail Miller was mourning the death of her second husband and spending his life insurance. Last year, Abigail Lambert tragically lost another husband and changed her name back to Kincaid and moved in with her son Thomas."

"Black Widow?"

"I have no proof. Unless you count the creepiness of her introducing her own son to his killer, and then claiming to have never met Marisol."

"Does creepiness count?"

"Only if I can substantiate it."

"There was that call from Mexico."

"Useful information, but the FBI can't snoop without a warrant."

"Still, I don't pretend to understand the parent/child bond, but I have observed you with Parker. Could she plan her own son's death?"

"She may have killed three husbands Bones."

"I can understand killing a husband."

"Good to know."

"Well, I mean on an intellectual level. There is no maternal bond with a husband."

"I haven't made you my beneficiary yet Bones. I just need you to know that."

"Well, I would expect Parker to be your beneficiary. Nothing prevents me from purchasing a policy on you."

"Have you purchased one?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, well back to the murder case, and my comfort zone. Did you find out anything interesting this morning?"

"Angie found an article from a Mexican newspaper."

"And?"

"You know Booth, I'm independently wealthy. I'm not likely to purchase a life insurance policy for you. It would be more logical for you to purchase a policy on me, where you're the beneficiary."

"Waste of money Bones. I'm dying first."

"You can't know that."

"Please tell me about the article."

"Three people died in the fire. Marisol's parents, and a 22-year-old servant named Miertha Medina. The fire started in Miertha's bedroom when she fell asleep smoking. The parents died of smoke inhalation, but Miertha's body was burned beyond identification. Marisol escaped."

"Bones, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"How do I know what you are thinking Booth?"

"I think Miertha escaped and stole Marisol's identity."

"I haven't jumped to any conclusions. We have Marisol's DNA. Perhaps Senor Ortiz will undergo a paternity test."

"Yes Bones! That's why you're the genius."

"Actually, my IQ defines my genius."

"Yeah, well I've peeked under your IQ, and let me tell ya…"

"Booth!" Brennan hung up.


	13. Chapter 13

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Thirteen

Susan H.

Two hours later Brennan picked up her phone.

"Bones, we got Marisol!"

"What? How?"

"The agents picked her up outside Abigail's house. She'll be here in 45 minutes."

"But Abigail knew the house was being watched by agents."

"Obviously Bones, she's selling Marisol out. Abigail is probably trying to take the spot light off herself."

"Should we call Dr. Sweets?"

"Sure. He's a crime fighter. That will keep him focused."

Brennan smiled and dialed Sweets.

An hour later, Marisol sat in the interview room. Hodgins had wormed his way behind the observation mirror with Sweets.

"That is not the woman Luther thought he married," Hodgins exclaimed.

Marisol's black hair rested against a blouse that colored her contours a deep, bloody, red. Her full lips were painted the same shade. Her head emerged from the wide teardrop opening of her blouse that allowed black straps to peek out at the shoulders, and its point ended well below the spot cleavage began.

Silver earrings jangled. A silver necklace acted as a street sign showing the way to the cleavage, in case the admirer missed the more subtle signs. Her tight black leather skirt and red stilettos completed the look.

Booth and Brennan entered the room.

"Well, you are not the Marisol that I remember," Booth said.

Marisol tapped a sharp red nail on the metal table, and crossed her legs.

"Maybe you're not the Marisol that anybody remembers."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Mr. Ortiz has submitted to a DNA test. We'll know tomorrow if you are his daughter," Brennan added.

"That's true. If the test proves you are not the daughter of Alfredo Ortiz, what do you suppose that means?"

"Perhaps it means that my mother had some, how do you Americans say…indiscretion?"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Perhaps. Or, maybe, we have ourselves a fire bug."

Tap. Tap. "Miertha Medina," Booth continued after the second tap.

"Um, you missed a tap," Brennan noted.

Tap.

"At the very least, the forensics proves you killed Thomas Kincaid," Brennan continued.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"And your husband, Luther, is willing to testify to what he knows," Booth added.

"Luther," she snorted, "Would never testify in your courts."

"No, he would. He felt disenfranchised, but he's become friends with one of the scientists on my team. He is being quite cooperative," Booth assured her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I'm booking you under the name Marisol Harper for the murder of Thomas Kincaid," Booth announced.

Two agents entered the room. "When you confiscate her personal belongings, please remove those fake nails. They are possible weapons. Don't worry, Marisol, we'll return them to you upon your release."  
The agents walked Marisol out of the room.

Outside the interview room, Booth laid his arm across Brennan's shoulders.

"How are you feeling Bones?"

"Quite unsatisfied."

"We caught the killer."

"Yes, but what about Abigail? What about the fire in Mexico?"

"This is just the beginning."

"But I like it best when it's all cleaned up at the end of the day Booth."

"I know Bones. This one will be a marathon, not a sprint."

"It's just so," Brennan thought a moment, "frustrating."

"I have just the cure for that. See you after work."

Booth departed, and Brennan made her way back to her office. She closed the file on Marisol. She hated a file that asked more questions than it answered.


	14. Chapter 14

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Fourteen

Susan H

Booth pulled her down by her waist and pinned her with his body. Brennan laughed and wrapped her feet around his calves, while rocking her hips and building enough momentum to flip Booth on his back.

She straddled him, and he grasped her wrists and pulled her against him, where perspiration released the fruity smell of her hair and he felt the warmth of her neck. Her chest heaved against his. Her thighs clung to his hips. A lock of her silky hair fell in his mouth, and he explored its texture with his tongue. Her smooth cheek brushed his whisker roughened one.

Booth rolled them over again situating himself on top. Her heels dug into his back, and she pressed against him. He grabbed her right leg and pulled it up to his shoulder. She followed with her left leg for balance and leverage. She squeezed his shoulders with her thighs and calves. Her knees rested on either side of his face.

He held her wrists above her head, and dropped his head panting in her ear. Brennan's olfactory glands marinated in his manly smell of cologne, sweat, and hard work. She arched her back, and thrust with her right hip to force him to her left. She drew and held her breath and pushed with all her strength. Her face turned pink. Her body went limp. Booth's body also relaxed, and he rolled off of her.

They lay side by side, catching their breath and gathering their strength.

"I think it's a draw," Booth panted.

"I agree," Brennan said between breaths.

After a few minutes, Booth stood up and extended a hand to Brennan. She accepted it, and her athletic shoes squeaked on the mat as she stood. Metal clanged as those around them worked with weights. Music played with a strong beat for the benefit of those in aerobic class. She grabbed a towel and dabbed her face. Booth rubbed a towel through his hair.

They walked to the foyer.

"Feel better?" Booth asked.

"I do."

"How about Thai tonight?"

"Perfect."

Booth turned left and walked down the hall. Brennan turned right and headed to the women's locker room and showers.


	15. Chapter 15

Blood on a Parasol

Chapter Fifteen

Susan H

The next morning, after a brief meeting, Brennan left Cam's office. She spotted the back of Booth's head, protruding from the top of her chair. She walked in, and he swung around. His feet were propped on her desk, ankles crossed.

"Well, you certainly don't hesitate to take liberties," she said.

"You're one to talk," Booth smiled.

"Perhaps I will just work you over until you're too tired to move."

"We agreed that was a draw."

"I wasn't referring to the gym. I'm talking about after dinner."

"Anytime," Booth said, hit the speaker button and dialed. Ringing replaced their banter.

"Hola,"

"Mr. Ortiz, this is Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan."

"You have the DNA results."

"Yes Mr. Ortiz," Brennan interjected, "the woman Agent Booth arrested is not your daughter. We believe she is Miertha Medina, the live-in maid."

Ortiz was silent. Brennan and Booth respected the moment, as understanding hung in the air.

"So, my daughter, Marisol, died in the fire."

"Mr. Ortiz, we can't say for sure. The Mexican authorities need to investigate. I'm sorry, I can't imagine what you are feeling at this time," Booth said.

"I feel relief Agent Booth. I am relieved that the woman I met was not my daughter. I can finally put words to the experience. I didn't care for that woman. I felt no connection. I suffered guilt for those feelings.

"She did not act like a daughter. She acted like a woman looking for a partner. How does a father accuse a daughter of such a thing? I laid awake nights, disturbed to tears.

"You have given me my sweet little Marisol back. I don't know what kind of woman she was, but she wasn't this monster that showed up at my door. That's good enough for me."

"I'm sorry too, Mr. Ortiz," Brennan added, "A family interrupted is always an overwhelming situation."

Booth met Brennan's eyes. The phone call ended.

"A family interrupted Bones?"

"Yes Booth. One expects the family to remain constant to the end. Death, divorce, even relocation change the shape, but don't interrupt the family. Unexplained separation, complete loss of communication, that's a family interrupted."

"Wow."

The End

**Coming Next: ****The Interrupted Family.**** This will be the ninth story in this series. To fully enjoy these stories, I recommend you read them in order:**

**1 The Memory in the Amnesia**

**2 Booths R Us**

**3 The Death in the Vow**

**4 Birthday Suits in a Suite**

**5 Athena and Tarzan, **** Part one of two**

**6 Sweets Please Help,**** Part two of two**

**7 The Civil in the War,**** Part one of two**

**8 Blood on a Parasol, ****Part two of two**

**9 The Interrupted Family**

**As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. I hope these stories add a smile to your day---Susan H.**


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